


Decoy

by KH310-S (Author_of_Kheios)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cyborgs, Decoy Racers, Drug trafficking, Foursome - M/M/M/M, M/M, Multi, No Androids, Organ Trafficking, Racing AU, Reed2700, Sex Trafficking, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 19:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18745993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Author_of_Kheios/pseuds/KH310-S
Summary: Gavin Reed is in the top five of the illegal racing circuits, and between him and his best friend/partner/rival Tina Chen, it's a rare thing to not reach the podium on Solo or Double races. But when their usual third driver gets busted for a drug run shortly before a cross-country Triplet race, they have to approach decoy racer Conan, once the number one racer and now the number one decoy, only to have him turn them down. Rising danger in the city, however, changes everything.





	1. The Decoy

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone, and welcome back to more of my obsession with Gavin Reed! If you're new, be sure to check out my main ongoing fic, _Tread Softly and Carry a Big Gun_ , featuring our favourite little bastard, and have a peek at _Checkmate_ , my high school/college AU featuring Markus and company!
> 
> Couple quick things before we begin. _Decoy_ came about because of a silly idea my mother had after we saw a shockingly LOUD-coloured car on the road; it was literally impossible to miss, and my mother thought it would be interesting to take a car like that to something like Cannonball Run and drive around in areas where cops are known to hang, distracting them so that racers can get by without being stopped. Being the DBH trash that I am, I immediately thought 'What if Gavin was a racer and hired Nines as his decoy?' and voila, _Decoy_ was born. I also borrowed ~~stole~~ a couple of OCs that do NOT belong to me; in fact, they belong to some peers from the Detroit: New ERA server I'm a part of on Discord (I'll add links at the end of the last chapter).
> 
> And last but certainly not least, this fic does include extremely pornographic material throughout, all male-on-male action. You have been warned; proceed at your own discretion.
> 
> And not that the housekeeping has been taken care of, enjoy!

“You sure about this, T?” I ask, mildly uneasy about the dark, ugly ass alley filled with trash and God knows what else; I sure as hell don’t want to look any closer.

It’s not so much the condition of the alley that puts me on edge ― honestly, it’s better than my room in the apartment some days ― but knowing where the alley leads, _that_ definitely makes me antsy.

“Trust me, Gav; I know this guy personally, and he’s absolutely the best,” my partner/rival/boss answers, giving me an amused smirk and pausing in front of the crappy, rusty iron door marked with graffiti tags and stickers, like the rest of the walls, all of which include some kind of curse word.

Beyond it, we can hear the dull, resonating thump of bass-heavy club music rumbling through the building. I can’t help but think of all the different clubs I’ve been in, from the high class rooftop clubs for the best racers and richest sponsors to mingle, to the seedy underground strip clubs where no one wears more than two inches of cloth across any part of their body. I haven’t even been inside yet and I’d rank this place little higher than the worst place I’ve been in terms of classiness, but in terms of how much I want to be here, I’d have to make a new system entirely to include so low an outlier.

“Don’t tell me the great Gavin Reed is scared of a nightclub,” Tina snickers, eying me up and down.

Like she can talk; she never has to worry about the reception she’ll get when she walks into a room. Tina Chen is a goddamn beauty: gorgeous Asian eyes and charm, a sugary sweet smile, and curves that would make any man desperate to touch.

Except me.

I mean, being gayer than gay, I’m not exactly interested, but even I can appreciate how drop-dead stunning she is.

The fact that I don’t want to touch is about the only reason she let me close enough for us to become friends. That, and the fact that nobody else can stand either of us for long.

“The day I’m scared of a nightclub is the day you should start worrying I’ve been replaced by pod people,” I scoff, hiding my nerves as best I can.

“Uh huh.” She rolls her eyes and reaches up to tug the zipper of her racing suit down between her breasts before tapping a pattern on the door. “Just try not to talk to anyone until we get an audience with him, okay? I rather like this place, and I don’t want to get banned because of your abrasive ass.”

“Sure thing, slut,” I shrug.

“Dickhead.”

“Whore.”

She doesn’t get to continue our thread before the door clunks loudly and then creaks open, letting the crash of club music spill out into the alleyway, pulsing coloured lights flashing behind the shadow that blocks the entrance.

“Name?” a low voice growls.

“Chen,” Tina answers coolly, professional now. “And guest. I have an appointment with Decoy.” There’s a soft grunt and the shadow moves to the side, tugging open the door.

Tina enters. I follow.

Beyond the half-lit entry room, it’s dark; every wall, ceiling and floor is painted black, and broken glow sticks are splattered over some surfaces near the seething mass of bodies that occupies the dancefloor, full human and partial cyborg alike. Vivid purples and blues and green flash and twirl, spinning back and forth over the bodies singing and dancing to the deafening music.

Tina grabs my wrist and pulls me along the edge of the crowd, squeezing between people and the wall and slipping past couples and threesomes making out and touching and grinding.

My cock twitches in interest at the sight of a huge, muscled bear pinning a slight, slender twink in the corner, hips rocking back and forth in time with the music; the twink has his head thrown back, fingers digging into the bear’s massive biceps. I can’t hear over the music, but I can imagine the sweet noises pouring off that boy’s lips, and I have to look away before my cock decides it’s my turn to have a little fun.

I’m not here for fun.

Not this time, anyway...

Tina stops at an alcove leading off to a private room, marked off by a thin red rope and guarded by a tall, well-built man with bright white-blond hair and sharp grey eyes that change colours with every light that passes over him.

“Tina Chen and guest,” she claims again, raising my hand slightly to distinguish me from the other bodies near us, lingering in hopes of being allowed entrance to the room.

“He’s busy,” the guard rumbles. I struggle to hide the shiver of _want_ his sultry voice sends crawling down my spine.

Normally I don’t like handing control over to anyone else; dominance is mine. But every once in a while, very rarely, I come across someone who brings out my deeply buried streak of masochistic submission. This guard is definitely one of them.

“I have an appointment, Erik,” Tina chuffs. “Don’t be a dumbass; let us in.”

“I warned you,” the guard, Erik, shrugs. He reaches across and unclips the rope, gesturing for us to pass. Tina tugs me forward and nudges me ahead of her, pausing by Erik to lean in and whisper something in his ear. He scoffs, shaking his head, and Tina grins, patting his shoulder before ushering me to the door while Erik clips the rope back in place.

The room is small, but comfortable. Three long, soft connecting couches line the walls, and two tables leave an aisle down the middle, leading directly to...

Oh my fuck.

The twin on top looks desperate and needy, much like the twink outside, and the twin beneath him is stoically dominating, not all that different than Erik.

In fact, these two share several similar features to the blond guard. These two have dark hair tinted orange by the soft red and yellow lighting in the room, and incredibly attractive faces and bodies, liberally kissed with freckles (which Erik didn't appear to have), but otherwise the three of them could be brothers.

Which makes the sight before me all the more intensely hot; the smaller one, on top, is half naked and facing the door while he grinds himself down on the larger one's lap. The larger one's hands are on the smaller one's hips, digging in roughly and guiding his movements, and his mouth is on the smaller one's neck, nipping and sucking to raise a bruise.

His gaze flicks up to the door as we enter, and my lungs cease to function as my heart lodges itself in my throat.

Even in the warm coloured lighting, his eyes are cold, sharp chips of crystal ice, boring through me to my very soul.

Frankly, I didn't think I even had one till now.

“So that’s what he meant by busy,” Tina chirps, entirely too pleased with the show. She eyes the pair in hungry interest, toying with her zipper the way she always does when she’s horny as fuck. It’s normally my cue to get lost, but I mean... where am I gonna go?

The smaller twin starts sharply, a vivid blush spreading over his face and chest, so bright that it’s easy to see even in the low warm lighting. He glances at us, dark eyes nervous and embarrassed, and tries to climb off the other one’s lap, only to be yanked back in place, the larger one’s fingers sliding down to his knees and keeping his legs wide open.

“Keep moving,” he orders in a deliciously rich, satiny voice that almost has me creaming my pants right then and there. It also compels the smaller one to continue, albeit somewhat more slowly and timidly. “Tina. I didn’t expect you for another half hour.”

“Mm, then I came right on time,” she purrs, baring her teeth in an almost feral-looking grin. “Do I get to join in?” The smaller one looks panicked for a moment, until the larger places a soft kiss over the mark he just made.

“No. You know the rules.” His gaze returns to me, and my knees almost give way. “Is he the one?”

“Yes,” Tina nods, mildly disappointed but eager to talk shop. “Gavin Reed, meet _the_ Decoy. The best in the business. Both the years I won, I won because I hired him as one of my decoy racers.”

“I hear you’ve won five of the eight races you’ve run this year,” the Decoy notes, still holding my gaze. I don’t dare look away, but when his hand moves to grasp his partner’s cock, my gaze somehow ends up following every lazy stroke that makes the smaller man moan.

“Yeah,” I manage past the heart still lodged in my throat, trying to swallow it down. “Yeah, I- That’s right.”

“Then why would you need a decoy?” he presses, twisting his wrist just so to make his partner yelp and whine in desperation. I flinch as the sound pierces straight to my gut and lights a fire.

“I...” I can’t think like this! All the blood in my body is rushing from one head to the other; it’s pretty pointless to try and hide my boner by now.

“My services don’t come cheap, Reed,” the Decoy cuts in, saving me from having to answer. “And I never sell to the top five racers on the board; you don’t need decoy racers to win. I play decoy to help level the playing field and keep the cops away from racers who need every second they can get in order to keep up with the leaders. _You_ don’t need me. So why are you here?”

“It was my idea,” Tina speaks up when I still can’t make my tongue do what it’s supposed to; damn thing wants to be over there, shoved down that dark-eyed man’s throat while my dick slides up alongside the other one inside him. I’m so lost in the fantasy that I almost can’t hear Tina. “The next race is Triplet, here to Monterey Bay, but our usual partner... Allen...”

She can’t say it, but the reminder sobers me enough to get control of my tongue, and I sure as hell can.

“Allen got his dumb ass involved in a fucking drug run during the last Solo and got busted at the finish line,” I snap out, tearing my gaze away from the two of them so I can think for a second without distraction. “Even if he hadn’t been busted, we don’t race teams with crooks.”

“He speaks,” the Decoy rumbled, sounding amused. “And here I thought we’d managed to silence your infamous tongue.”

“There’s only two ways to silence my tongue,” I retort without thinking. “Kiss me or put a dick in my mouth.” Heat creeps up my neck, but he just quirks an intrigued brow and lets it pass to focus on his partner, who looks to be on the verge of exploding; a writhing, whimpering mess on top of his larger lookalike.

“Not yet,” the Decoy murmurs in his ear, visibly tightening his grip on the other’s cock. “The meeting isn’t over; if you wanted release sooner, you should have cum before they arrived.”

The smaller one gives a groan and fumbles for the Decoy’s free hand, raising it to his own mouth and nibbling lightly on the fingertips. The Decoy growls lowly in approval, making both mine and the smaller twin’s cocks jump in eager anticipation.

“If you’re looking for a third racer, you’ve come to the wrong place,” he says, slowly finger-fucking the other’s mouth. “I don’t run the races; I am a decoy to distract cops and nothing more.”

“You’re the fastest driver out there,” I point out, my annoyance at his audacity bolstered by the frustration of being fucking horny and unable to do anything about it. “You could wipe the board on every Solo, so why don’t you?”

“Because I’m not interested,” he answers easily, startling me. I expected I’d have to fight for an answer. “Racing is boring; point A to point B, don’t get caught by the cops, make sure you sleep... There’s no thrill, no excitement, no... pleasure.” He deliberately bucks his hips upward, drawing a strangled cry of blissful need from the smaller one.

“And what, being a decoy gives you _pleasure_?” I put a little more venom in that than I meant to. Whoops.

“There is nothing more entertaining to me than leading cops on a merry chase across the desert or through cities and coming out on the other end knowing they can’t do a thing to stop me. I spend a couple nights in jail, get a new entry on my rap sheet; big deal. I had fun, and nobody got hurt.”

I can’t even begin to argue with that.

No wait, I can. “Have you ever actually raced?”

“Yes. I won my first Solo, and my second. I only lost my third because someone sabotaged my ride, and then I proceeded to win my fourth and fifth. I stopped racing when my brother was shot by a gunman hired take me out of the running.” Taking his fingers from the smaller man’s mouth, he trails saliva down to a spot on the right side of the man’s chest. “It stopped being fun when I realised lives were on the line. So no, I will not race with you, or anyone else.”

I’ll give him this; at least he’s straightforward.

Tina sighs and turns to leave, not wanting to push him now. But I have one last thing to say. And not about them being brothers, even though the confirmation makes me want to strip down and beg to be taken in a foursome.

“We take care of our own,” I say shortly, partly irritated that he assumes all racers are that bad, and partly still frustrated by the growing ache in my crotch. “Those fuckers that tried to kill you aren’t real racers. Tina and I... even Allen before he did that stupid shit... we looked out for each other. Me and Tina still do. Doubles and Triplets, we always have someone on watch, always. And Solos, we check in with each other every mile. Every single mile. Or every hour when we stop. We race because to us, there’s nothing better than pushing ourselves to cross that finish line faster than we did the last time; nothing better than hitting our limits and breaking through it. If being a decoy is really what gets you off, then by all means, lead those pigs on a merry fucking chase. But don’t you _dare_ look down on racing just because you’re too fucking scared of the risk. Everyone dies someday; not everyone lives until they do.”

I don’t expect a response and I don’t wait for one either; I turn and follow Tina out. We’re just gonna have to keep looking for a third elsewhere.


	2. The Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin receives a visit from an unlikely guest.

“Mr. Reed,” a low, sturdy female voice gets my attention while I’m elbow deep under the hood of my car. Our car; Tina’s put as much money and time into this baby as I have, and while we each have our own rides for Solos, this is our ride for Doubles and Triplets.

“One sec,” I call over my shoulder, and finish tightening the spark plug I just replaced before pulling out of the engine and setting my tools down to face my guest.

Holy hell, she’s big. Tall for a woman, maybe an inch shorter than me, and she’s got the buffest body I’ve seen on a chick that wasn’t in a bodybuilding competition. Or bulked up from cyborg implants and steroids.

This lady? All natural. How many hours does she spend in the gym a week? I spend a good majority of my time there, so no judgement; hell, I’d even go so far as to say I’m impressed.

“Yeah?” I prompt, staring back at her fierce dark eyes. I’m not intimidated, and I’m not gonna pretend I can’t tell she’s Five-O. “I’m not hiding any drugs or shit in the back if that’s what you’re here for.”

“Not exactly,” she drawls in a mildly amused tone, the corner of her mouth twitching up. “I’m Agent Shapiro of the FBI.”

“FBI?” I quirk a brow at her, leaning against the grill of the car and eying her up and down.

Yeah, I can see it. Have to be blind not to. No badge or gun that I can see at the moment, but something about the way she carries herself... She’s one badass motherfucker, that’s for sure.

“You sound sceptical,” she notes, further amused.

“Nah, just a little surprised,” I scoff. “Didn’t think there was much around here to interest the big dogs.”

“There usually isn’t,” she agrees lightly, gaze flicking around almost imperceptibly. If I hadn’t been watching her closely, I’d have missed it.

“So?” I press. “What brings you around?” Best to remain cordial in these circumstances; never know what kind of shit you can bring down on your head if you piss off law enforcement, especially in my position; racing may not be illegal, technically, but racing across the country, on public roads, breaking every speed limit on the way... Definitely not gonna make the cops very happy.

“Is there anywhere we can talk?” she asks, an edge to her voice that definitely sets me on high alert; there’s trouble brewing, absolutely.

God, I wish Tina was here... We’re both asshats, but at least she has some charm that she can turn on sometimes. Me? Not so much.

I really hope I don’t piss this lady off.

“Got an office,” I offer, struggling to stay calm even though I know I’ve done nothing wrong.

Except racing. That’s not why she’s here, is it? God, I hope not.

I lead Agent Shapiro to the office of the little mechanic shop that Tina owns and I manage. Allen was one of our main mechanics, but as soon as we found out he was arrested for trafficking drugs, Tina fired him on the spot, so now I do most of the work.

Not that there’s much work to be done; the shop is mostly a front to keep up appearances while the real job is racing.

The office is tiny, and a little bit cluttered, but clean and orderly; Tina’s anally OCD about keeping this place tidy. I offer Shapiro the rolling chair from the desk and sit on the arm of the worn out armchair in the corner.

“There’s, ah, coffee behind you if you want,” I say, gesturing. “Brewed this morning, so not exactly fresh, but it’s the good stuff; real strong.”

I’m blabbering. Fuck. Shut up.

“So, um,” I clear my throat and try not to look like I’m hiding a body in the back, but being alone in a room with the FBI isn’t doing my stress any favours.

“I understand that until recently, Allen Thompson was an employee of yours,” she says, cutting off my babbling while helping herself to a cup of coffee.

“There’s really no drugs here,” I say, worry turning more toward annoyance now. “We don’t work with crooks.”

“Bold words for one of the top five illegal racers of the country,” she hums easily, taking a casual sip of her hot coffee while my blood runs cold. I can’t speak, but she just waves a hand. “I’m not interested in your racing history, Mr. Reed. I’m tracking down a sex trafficking ring, and I believe the group your former employee ran drugs for may be involved with the ring I’m hunting.”

“Wh- Sex traffickers?” I echo, a little bit behind. “What does that have to do with...?”

“With drugs?” she finishes, lounging back in Tina’s chair. “More than you’d expect. Especially nowadays, when you can stuff a good kilo of drugs in a cyborg leg and get it past all but the most thorough checkpoints. Put that together with the transportation of kidnapped women and girls... It’s a veritable gold mine for the most ambitious crooks. And that’s not even the whole of it.”

“There’s more?” My voice squeaks a little, to my utter embarrassment, but she simply nods.

“The man I’ve been hunting for over ten years, Alexander Cudmore, has branched out from merely trafficking sex slaves to selling organs and expensive cyborg parts on the black market.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask quickly, catching up all at once and coming to a conclusion I don’t like.

“...As I understand it, you run with a woman, Tina Chen,” she explains slowly, confirming my suspicion. “And Chen has cyborg legs, correct?”

“You want us to get involved with whatever group approached Allen and then feed you information,” I clarify, my voice sounding hollow in my ears.

At least she hesitates this time.

“It is a dangerous offer,” she admits. “But-”

“Dangerous?” I cut in, fire rising in my chest. “ _Dangerous_?? You know what’s dangerous, lady? Driving 90 through the mountains of Colorado. Racing fucking trains to cross the tracks so you don’t lose fifteen minutes that could mean the entire fucking race. Swerving through New York traffic during rush hour with three cops on your tail; _that’s_ dangerous. This...! This is fucking suicide! I’m not gonna get my best friend killed just so you pigs can get an inside peek at some sicko’s operation; her life might be worth it for you, but not for me!”

“We’re not asking you to risk your lives,” Shapiro replies coolly. “If things get hot, we’ll extract you immediately. But this deal is new. Very new. Incomplete. There’s a struggle for power within the merging groups, and at this point, anyone could come out on top.”

“So, what, you want Tina or me to run for president or whatever?” I sneer at her, hating that I’m even talking about this.

“You, in fact. I hear from Agent Anderson that you, of all the racers he’s been hunting over the years, are a force to be reckoned with. Chen is more or less bait to bring attention to you.”

“Anderson?” I scoff. “That old bastard couldn’t catch a fucking sloth if it fell in his lap; he’s washed up, a geezer long past his glory days. Why is he even still on the case?”

“Because he knows you racers better than anyone else,” she says simply, setting her cup on the desk and tapping her fingers idly against the plastic. “He may not be able to catch you, but he knows how you think, how you work. If we’d had the resources to pull together a proper team, we could have busted the racing circuits years ago. But you people are hardly a threat to society. A menace, perhaps, but not a threat. Anderson keeps us well informed about who is where and doing what, and we step in when needed, such as with your friend Allen.”

“Not a friend,” I growl. She raising her fingers in acknowledgement and continues.

“This new merger threatens everyone; taking it down is the FBI’s highest priority right now. You and Tina Chen are our best and fastest option, and we have no time to waste.”

I don’t want to do it. I hate the idea of working with Five-O, even for something like this. But if what Shapiro says is right, then Tina’s in danger anyway. And so is North and her team, my biggest rivals right now. I don’t want to do them any favours, but at the same time, it’d be no fun without the competition.

Actually, speaking of...

“What about North?” I suggest. “She’s, uh... She’s my main rival; tough as nails and twice as sharp.”

“We’ve already approached her and her team,” Shapiro smiles wryly. “I’m sure you can guess her response.”

She probably told them to go fuck themselves, in less pleasant terms. That woman’s probably the only person with a tongue worse than mine.

I still don’t want to do this, but at this point, I’m not seeing any other options. Still...

“I need time to think about this,” I sigh after a moment. “Yeah, I get it; no time to waste. But I’m not making a decision that’s gonna affect Tina without getting her input first.”

“Of course.” Shapiro stands. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out a wallet and slips a card from the folds that she holds out to me. “Call me when you’ve reached a decision. I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but you’d probably take that as a challenge to make our next encounter as unpleasant as possible.” I flip her off as I shove the card in my jeans without looking at it, and she gives me a faint smirk in return. “Have a good evening, Mr. Reed.”


	3. The Stakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Decoy comes around, and Gavin is fucked.

I’m under the car the next time I get interrupted. I hear whoever comes in ― a couple people, actually ― but I just assume they’re heading for the office to see Tina until someone kicks my boot.

“Unless you’ve got a really good excuse, and I mean world-ending-shop’s-on-fire kinda thing, fuck off.”

A foot hooks around mine and yanks me out from under the car. I drop the wrench and a nut, cursing, and get ready to jump up and unleash a can of whoop ass on whoever...

Oh.

Shit.

“Good morning, Reed,” the Decoy says, standing over me as casual as can be, dressed in a racing suit that hugs every muscled curve of his god-like body to mouthwatering perfection. Just behind him, his brother stands in a similar suit, looking similarly delicious but in a quieter, more submissive way. Farther behind them, Erik is fucking edible as a candy shop in a matching suit, inspecting the motorcycle that’s been my pet project for the past two years.

“Uh...” My tongue has stopped working. Great. Just perfect.

“Do you have a moment?” the Decoy asks, a faint smirk hinting at his gorgeous lips.

Dear God, I want him to order me around with that sexy mouth, just like he was commanding his brother the other night.

“I... Uh... Wh- Yeah!” I stammer, shaking my head and rolling quickly to my feet, hating that I keep making a fool of myself in front of this absolute Adonis. “Um, come into the office.” I head that way, hoping the heat in my cheeks isn’t visible. “TINA!”

“WHAT?” She leans back in her chair as I approach, peeking through the partly open door. Her brows raise and she pushes the chair back to stand and open the door completely. I awkwardly gesture Decoy and his brothers in, and then stand just inside the door, oddly nervous.

“Good morning, Tina,” the Decoy greets with a smile, leaning in to kiss her cheek as he passes and sits in the armchair. Erik follows suit, kissing Tina’s cheek and leaning against the wall beside Decoy. Their brother gives Tina a full hug, smiling softly, and then sits on the arm of Decoy’s chair.

“Nice to see you boys. What brings you to my shop?” Tina asks in interest, flipping over a paper on her desk as she sits back down.

“We heard you were approached by the FBI,” the Decoy answers, laying his hand on his brother’s back and tracing small circles.

“That’s a lot of ears hearing things,” I scowl, not liking this _at all_.

“Which is precisely why we’re here.” He smiles, but it’s not a pleasant smile and I can’t help a shiver of unease. “Agent Shapiro is desperate, and she’s being rather careless in her rush to end things with an old enemy. She’s only made one notable mistake, but one is all it takes.”

“What do you mean?” Tina frowns narrowly at him.

“North is missing,” he explains. “She disappeared yesterday evening, less than eight hours after Shapiro approached her and her team. Markus has been spreading word through our circles, hoping to hear something, _anything_ about where she might have gone. Josh believes she went after the sex traffickers herself; apparently one of their friends was taken several years ago and turned up dead five months later.”

“Amelia,” I grimace. “I remember that; she was a good racer. Not the best, but a lot of potential.”

“Indeed,” he hums, nodding.

His approval makes me weak in the knees and I move to sit on the edge of the desk before I collapse and embarrass myself even more than I already have.

“Simon fears North may have been kidnapped herself,” he continues, “and came directly to me to ask for my help. Why he came to me, I can’t say, but I’ve been considering what you said the last time we met, Reed.” His gaze drops for a moment, a crack in his perfect exterior, giving me the tiniest glimpse of insecurity beneath it. “I came here today hoping your offer for a third in the upcoming Triplet is still open. Erik is a former SEAL, and Connor is a genius with cars; even I don’t understand how he does what he does. I am offering my team to protect you; with North missing, and the situation rapidly turning more dangerous, there are more lives at stake than ever, and I refuse to be a coward any longer.”

Oh my fucking God... Gorgeous _and_ vulnerable?

Fuck me. Literally; right now, just fuck me breathless.

I glance at Tina. Since she’s in the most danger ― and she’s basically my boss, despite the fact that I’d be the one ‘in charge’ if we do work with Shapiro ― it’s her choice. She looks back at me, thoughtful, fingers steepled in front of her pursed lips. Then she hums and spins around to face the desk, going back to whatever paperwork she was busy with before.

“Welcome to the team, boys. Gav, show them around and get them busy; we’ve still got a lot to do before race day. And call Shapiro, let her know we’re in.”

Well, I did say it was her choice.

“Sure thing, _boss_ ,” I scoff, standing. She flips me off. “Bitch.”

“Asshole.”

“Cunt.”

“Manwhore.”

Shaking my head, I gesture for the brothers to follow and head back out into the garage.

“The garage,” I explain bluntly, turning around and spreading my arms. “That’s the car we’ll be racing; custom Ferrari 300X. As you can see, she’s got a low line chassis and a high angle spoiler to keep her glued to the road; 3 litre V12-”

“Two hundred and one cubic inches, 54 degrees, dual overhead cams,” Connor interjects, staring at the car. His hands twitch restlessly at his sides. “Conan?”

“Go ahead,” the Decoy ― Conan ― smiles, waving him forward. He steps past me and pops the hood, eyes alight when he sees the engine.

“Rudimentary, but passable,” he murmurs, reaching in.

“Hey!” I protest, half in objection to his claim and half because I hate letting anyone put their hands on my engine except Tina and Allen.

Well. Just Tina now.

“Let him,” Conan says, one large hand settling on my shoulder. I lock up, heart lunging to my throat and still managing to pound in my ears. Then I practically melt at the pride in his voice when he adds, “He means well, but he’s not the best at communicating. Really, he’s impressed; that’s the most complimentary thing I’ve ever heard him say about anyone else’s work.”

Okay, now I just feel bad.

“What is it, autism?” I ask, and immediately regret opening my mouth. But Conan just smiles.

“Maybe. We never got it diagnosed.”

His hand is still on my shoulder.

“Right.” His fingers are really long. “Um... Lodging. You’re not staying near the club, are you?” What would it feel like to have those fingers wrapped around my dick, coaxing an easy orgasm out of me? “That’s a little far to commute...”

“Are you offering to let us stay with you, Reed?” he hums, amused.

Did he just step closer? I think he stepped closer. God, I can smell his aftershave.

“Well, I’m not offering to let you fuck me.”

Oh shit, wait; I said that out loud, didn’t I? Fuck!

“Should I take that to mean you’d rather fuck me?” My gaze leaps to his, stunned, and he smirks.

He’s definitely closer. Fuck whatdoIdo shitfuckme nodont’tsaythat

“Yes.”

Oh fuck, I said it.

“There’s an apartment upstairs,” Erik speaks up, thankfully diverting attention as he strides up, and I realise belatedly that he left at some point, presumably to check out the place for bugs or whatever it is that former Navy SEALs do in a new place. “Easily defendable, no lines of sight for snipers save one area in the main room, and multiple entrances and exits; we won’t be cornered.”

“Good,” Conan nods, letting his hand fall from my shoulder. “Take Connor and retrieve our things; how long will it take?”

“We can be back by 1530.”

“That’s fine. Stop by Luther’s on the way back and make sure he and Kara are taking Alice somewhere safe; out of the country, if they can. Just until this is sorted.” Erik gives a short nod and goes across to Connor, whose hands are already covered in oil.

I don’t want to know what that man is doing to my engine.

“Don’t you have a call to make, Reed?” Conan asks.

Fuck my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imma be honest, I bullshat the stuff about the car, so don't judge me.


	4. The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The real game begins, and Conan shares some secrets.

“Ninety-nine seconds,” Connor reports, looking almost childishly delighted.

“I suppose I can live with that,” Conan huffs with a smile, climbing out of the car and unzipping his suit a few inches.

“You say that like you didn’t just shatter my record,” I scowl at the flawless flesh peeking out from between his lapels. “Twice.”

“There’s always someone better than you,” he smirks, coming over to the railing of the fence where I’m leaning and proceeding to lean on it when I move back. “Always.”

“Fuck you,” I sneer, flipping him off.

“Maybe later,” he hums, quirking a brow. It’s a power move, and goddamn if I don’t want to give him more power. Specifically, over me.

“Would you two stop eye-fucking and get a room already?” Tina snaps, climbing over the fence. “My turn. One last run for each of us, and then we’ll call it a night; we’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

I want to protest the eye-fucking comment, but after all the times my tongue has gotten me in trouble just in the past three days, I don’t trust myself not to make another come on to Conan.

As Tina’s just about to slide into the car, Erik whistles sharply from his perch on the watchtower above us. We all look up at him and he points at a black sedan coming toward us from the entrance of the race track.

We have permission to be here, so it can’t be security. It’s not a government vehicle either, so it’s not Shapiro or Anderson. None of our sponsors drives a black sedan, so...

I glance at Conan. The faint humour I’ve grown accustomed to seeing on his face is completely gone, replaced with a cold mask of apathy. Connor steps close to him, releasing a quiet whine that softens the mask, barely; Conan wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in, kissing his temple, but never looks away from the approaching vehicle.

Tina joins us by the fence by the time the sedan pulls up and parks nearby. Two thugs get out first, and one of them opens the back door, letting a man in a suit step out.

He’s neat and clean cut, almost handsome the way only young politicians are. Or he would be, except for the cybernetic eye in his head. It’s not even one of the pretty ones that almost look real; it’s one of those trashy looking metal ones that just scream cyberpunk-wannabe, which definitely ruins the respectable look he’s trying to pull off.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he greets with a slick, oil salesman voice. “Miss Chen. My name is Alexander Cudmore.”

This is it. This is what we’ve been waiting the last two weeks for. And after the news we got last night that North, who had actually been undercover for Shapiro ― so much for telling her to fuck off ― was compromised and really, truly vanished, this is just in time.

“Yeah, we know who you are,” Tina says shortly. “What do you want?”

“Such a mouthy little thing for so small a pest,” he smiles coldly back.

“I take it you’ve heard the proposition we sent out,” I speak up, adopting some of Conan’s dominance to get Alexander’s attention and take control of the situation.

“A pitiful attempt,” he scoffs. “But admirable.”

“You don’t think we can do it, do you?” I give him a pitying smirk and revel in the scowl that twists his features.

“Your only tie to the flipside of the law is your pathetic little races,” he points out harshly. “You have no chance of dethroning those of us who have spent years, _decades_ building our empires.” Gathering himself, he eyes me more speculatively. “However... I do admire your ambition, and I am willing to overlook your insults if you can be persuaded to join me.”

“ _Join_ you?” Tina barks a humourless laugh, and I snort in equal amusement.

“You’re scrounging for support wherever you can find it,” Conan sighs, shaking his head. “You’re desperate, Cudmore; it’s not a good look for you.”

“I am hardly desperate,” Alexander sneers. “My opponent is weak; doesn’t have what it takes to push this merger to the heights it can reach.”

“And you do?” I ask sceptically, raising a brow at him. He glares narrowly at me.

“Of course I do.”

“Prove it,” Tina says blatantly. “Show us your hand and maybe you can convince us to _partner_ with you.”

A long moment of quiet passes while Alexander considers, eying each of us in turn, even Connor, whose normally meek expression is now a chiseled stone mask.

“I understand you have a race tomorrow,” he says finally. “I’ll send a car for you tonight, and you can see for yourselves what you’ll have to work with if you make the smart decision in this matter.”

“Then we’ll see you tonight,” Conan agrees.

“Indeed,” Alexander hums coolly.

I hold my breath until the car is out of sight and then let it all out at once, turning and leaning heavily on the fence. My head is spinning and I’m shaking with adrenaline.

“Fuck...”

“No kidding,” Tina breathes, sounding just as shaky. “Did that really happen?”

“...Too easy,” Conan mutters. I look up at him in surprise, but he’s frowning toward the entrance of the track.

“Too- Are you kidding??” I can’t believe this guy. “The fact that he hasn’t heard about Shapiro’s visit is a miracle as it is, much less that he actually thinks we’re interested in getting a piece of the action!”

“Exactly,” he cuts in before I can say anything else, nudging Connor away and facing me, a fierce look in his eyes that partly reminds me of the look in Shapiro’s eyes when I first met her, but mostly just makes me want to drop to my knees and beg for his dick. “I don’t believe for one second Cudmore doesn’t know about Shapiro’s visit. But he didn’t bring it up. He knows exactly what we are, and if we get in that car, we’re not coming back. Not if he has any say in the matter. You and I will no doubt be chopped up for the best of our organs, and Tina will absolutely end up with the rest of the women.”

I hate it, but the more I think about it, the more I have to agree.

“Shit... So what do we then?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, shaking his head. “Erik’s better at this kind of thing. ERIK!” The SEAL raises a hand in acknowledgement and begins the quick climb down.

“We have to find out where he’s keeping those women,” Tina persists.

“Is there a way to trick him?” I ask, more thinking aloud than anything. “Someway to go along with whatever he plans on doing, and... _not_ die?”

“Trackers,” Erik offers, joining us.

“He’d scan us,” Conan argues, shaking his head. “Or Tina, at least.”

“He can’t scan for metal or plastic,” Erik points out patiently. “Not with as many cyborg parts are out there now. He’d have to scan for transmissions, so use a delayed-relay transmitter.”

I’m lost, but by the way Conan lights up, he isn’t.

“Connor, how long would it take you?” he asks.

“Four-point-three hours for three transmitters; two-point-six-five hours to make them delayed-relay; point-four hours to customise them to each of you.”

“Tina, yours will have to be in one of your legs,” Conan says. “Mine in my pelvis. Reed, do you have any cyborg implants or replacements?”

“Um...” I glance at Tina, who rolls her eyes with a smirk. Conan catches the interaction and his brow lifts, gaze flicking down to my crotch. I cover it quickly. “It’s not my dick.”

“His nose,” Tina answers for me, chuckling. “That’s why he has that scar. Got his face bashed through a windshield and into a tree; completely destroyed the bone. He’s lucky it didn’t pierce his brain.”

“Fuck off, slut.”

“Cocksucker.”

“You say that like it’s an insult.” She laughs, and it eases the tightness in my chest.

“Alright.” Conan swings over the fence, right next to me. “Reed, call Shapiro and have her meet us at the shop; now that we’ve got a shot at this, we need to move quickly. Erik, Connor, ride back with Tina in the car; Reed and I will take the bike. Connor, as soon as you get back, start working on those transmitters; they need to be ready ASAP.”

By the time I finish the short call to Shapiro, Tina and the others are long gone, leaving me alone with Conan, who’s half sitting on my motorcycle, reading something on his phone. I try to steady my breathing as I walk over to him, but it’s damned hard to do anything casually when he’s posing like a fucking model on my bike.

Goddamnit, I wanna bend him over it and fuck him right here.

Or bend over it myself and let him fuck me.

He catches my wrist the moment I’m in reach, not even looking up for the moment; my heart lodges in my throat again.

Swear that’s its second home at this point.

“You know that tomorrow is going to be incredibly dangerous, don’t you?” he asks, gaze still fixed on whatever is on his screen, hand wrapped firmly around my wrist. I can feel the heat of it even through my suit.

“Yeah, I know,” I say, glad that my voice is calm and level despite the heart trying to escape out of my mouth.

“We could all die,” he presses, glancing up now, pale gaze searching mine.

“Bitch, please,” I scoff, genuinely dismissive. “I prepare for the possibility of death every time I climb into that car at the starting line. I live and drive on the edge of death all the fucking time. Tomorrow’s not gonna be any different except that I won’t be in my car.”

“There are more people involved in this than just you, Gavin.” The way my name rolls off his tongue, low with warning, sends sparks through my veins. Sparks that turn to fire when he stands, slipping his phone in a pocket and zipping it closed, gaze fully on me now. “Any of us could die tomorrow. Tina could die tomorrow. I could die tomorrow. There are women and girls who may never see freedom or safety again if we fail. And some of them absolutely will die. There’s a lot more riding on this than just a race.”

I can’t reply. I don’t know what to say.

“Do you understand now?” he asks softly, reaching up and brushing his thumb lightly over my cheek. “Why I stopped racing? This fear, this... dread... It weighed on me every time I put on this suit. This suit is the reason Connor almost died, and I couldn’t stand it. One day, I just... couldn’t put it on again.”

“You put it on for us,” I point out, barely above a whisper. I don’t think I can even really breathe at the moment.

“I did,” he smiles lightly, resting his hand on my neck, thumb pressed against my pulse.

So much for not letting him know how much he affects me.

“Why?”

“...I first met Tina at the hospital,” he says, not quite answering yet. I let him talk. “She had just lost her legs in a horrific crash and was recovering from the replacement surgery. She happened to have the bed next to Connor, and because I spent every minute I could at his side, we talked. She knew who I was, but all she knew about Connor was that he was an innocent victim. I’m... pathetically grateful that she was too wrapped up in her own tragedy to connect the dots; I was not in a good place at the time, and I didn’t want anyone to know that he’d almost died because of me. Because of my passion. The only reason I pushed myself to try racing again at all after that was because of her; despite everything, she was determined to keep racing, and I felt like I had to do the same. When it became too much, she didn’t question me; she just bought me the flashiest car she could find and told me that if I wasn’t going to race, then I damn well better help her win by distracting the cops. So I did. And it was fun. More fun than I expected it to be. I felt guilty, but only because it _wasn’t_ guilty fun; I genuinely enjoyed it, almost as much as I used to enjoy racing. I owe Tina. For everything. My life wouldn’t be what it is without her, so the minute I found out she was in danger, I didn’t hesitate to put on the suit.”

I’ve been staring at his eyes, fascinated by the way they shift between shades of blue and grey, and I don’t realise he’s moving closer until his lips are practically on mine.

“And as a bonus, I got you,” he finishes, attacking my mouth with a slow, steady, undeniable heat that threatens to bring me to my knees for real. I can’t break away ― he’s stealing my strength from me ― so I cling to him instead, to keep from collapsing. He lets go of my wrist and wraps his arm around my waist, dragging me against him and deepening the kiss until I completely lose track of everything but his lips on mine, his tongue robbing me of breath, devouring me whole.

“Fuck...” is all I can think or say when he finally lets me breathe.

“Maybe later,” he chuckles, pressing his lips to mine in a softer, more delicate kiss that brings heat to my cheeks from deep in my gut.

“I hate you,” I grumble, attempting to glare at him and probably just pouting.

Thank Christ Tina isn’t here; I’d never hear the end of it.

“We’ll see how you feel about that if we survive tomorrow,” he smirks, guiding me to the bike and helping me straddle it, which is good, because I’d probably never be able to do it on my own, dazed as I am.

He straddles the bike in front of me; I can’t work up the energy to get pissed at him for driving _my_ bike. Besides, I get to fit my hips against his perfect ass.

We’re pulling up to the shop when I get a sudden thought, and I only wait for him to dismount before asking, “How many people have you told?”

“What I just told you?” he clarifies. I nod. “Including you?”

“Sure,” I shrug. “Why not?” He smiles softly.

“One.”


	5. The Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game turns sour.

It takes everything I have not to react when I see her.

North. I’d recognise that glare anywhere; she’s the only other person besides Tina who can match my dark looks shade for shade. It’s definitely her, even though her hair has been chopped short and a swollen bruise disfigures her face on one side. She raises her chin with defiance in her dark eyes, but her lips don’t even twitch, which surprises me; I expected a sneer at least.

“Quite the selection,” Conan hums, icy gaze surveying the young women and girls lined up along the back wall. “Where are the rest?”

“Gone already,” Alexander answers dismissively. “Sold or transported to different cities. What you see here is merely what remains of our last batch.”

“I was gonna say,” I say, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall by the door while Conan crouches beside a little girl on the opposite end of the room from North. “You got a lot of guts thinking you can come out on top if this is the best you can offer.”

“You underestimate me, Mr. Reed,” Alexander scowls at me. With a flick of his finger, all three of his thugs draw guns and take aim at us, one gun a person.

“The fuck is this?” Tina demands, putting her hands up to avoid getting shot. I do the same, and Conan carefully follows suit, slowly standing and turning.

“As I said,” Alexander replies, “you underestimate me. Did you really think I would so foolishly trust brand new players on the board mere days after a visit from the FBI?”

“Honestly? Yeah,” I say, just to piss him off.

“Precisely why you underestimate me,” he sneers.

“And you’re severely misjudging us,” I return, hoping I’m not about to get anyone killed.

“Oh am I?”

“You said our only tie to the flipside of the law was our races,” Conan says, picking up on the same line of thought, to my relief. “But you’re forgetting something.”

“Allen,” Tina continues, also picking up on it.

“He ran drugs for you guys,” I go on. “He was one of us.”

“You think we didn’t know about it already?” Tina scoffs. “Allen is a good racer, and he follows orders like nobody, but he’s about as dumb as a box of rocks.”

“Who do you think convinced him to take the run?” Conan asks.

“The thing about being on the flipside of the law,” I say casually, “is that in the eyes of the cops, we’re all the same, from the mindless thugs and drug mules to the head honchos like you and me.”

“You don’t need a huge network of people to get shit done,” Tina smirks.

“You just need the _right_ people,” Conan agrees. “Quality over quantity.”

“That’s what really makes a successful team,” I finish. “And the smaller the team, the less likely you’ll be stabbed in the back later. Put the guns away, Cudmore; you’re making a fool of yourself.”

“...Thing is,” he says after a moment, watching us warily as he saunters slowly across the room, “I still don’t trust you. See, one of you people, you racers, tried to trick me.” Reaching out, he grabs North’s jaw in a rough grip, fingers digging into her cheeks. “This _bitch_ came to me wired.”

“Your point?” I ask shortly, carefully channelling my anger at him into an annoyed tone.

“My _point_ ,” he sneers, shoving her away and glaring at me, “is that I think you’re trying to trick me too.”

I glance at Tina and then Conan.

“Reed, don’t,” Conan says shortly. I don’t know what he thinks I’m going to do, but it lends a certain authenticity to my actions as I stride across the room myself, making the thugs shift and tense up. Forcing myself not to hesitate, I grab the back of North’s neck and punch her in the stomach, pulling as much as I can at the last second and still making it look real.

Thank God she gets it; her eyes widen and she lets out a pained grunt, doubling over. She doesn’t fight when I grab her hair and yank her head up to meet her gaze.

 _“Hold on,”_ I mouth silently, and then glance over my shoulder. Fortunately, neither Tina nor Conan look surprised, merely irritated, in the case of the former, and resigned, in the the case of the latter. I smirk up at Alexander, who’s staring at me in surprise. “You know how long I’ve wanted to do this? And now there’s no Markus to stop me, no Simon or Josh. You mind?”

Alexander opens his mouth, then closes it and gives a wordless nod, moving away. I sneer at North and she flicks her gaze at the girl beside her. I hesitate for a split second and she does it a second time and then again, more insistently, when I frown. I glance quickly at the girl, trying to figure out what she’s pointing out... The girl is pretty small, no older than ten or eleven. She’s got a long dark mess of curls hanging in and around her face, all the way down her back and sides like a sort of dress ― her real clothes aren’t torn, thank god. There is a scar across her nose, not all that different than mine, and it pains me to think that these bastards put her face through a window, but it’s an old wound, so it must be from before she was caught.

I hope, anyway...

Then it suddenly hits me. I don’t know how, but something clicks and I realise what’s wrong, what North was trying to draw my attention to.

Her movements. She started squirming closer to North while my attention was on Alexander and the others, but she’s moving slowly and awkwardly, like she’s been drugged.

Is that what he did to them to keep them all so quiet and obedient? Did he give them some kind of paralysis-inducing drug that keeps them from running or talking?

Shit...

Good thing we weren’t planning to run.

I shove North away to grab the girl and haul her to her feet.

“Too close,” I grunt in response to the narrowed look from Alexander. “Don’t wanna damage the other goods.” I drag her ― because she can’t even walk on her own ― over to Conan and push her at him. “She’s cute; keep an eye on her.”

The barest twitch of his lips tells me he understands exactly what I mean, and he pulls her against his side with a nod, supporting her while I go back to North and proceed to make a show of beating the shit out of her but doing as little real damage as I can manage. When I’ve done enough ― I hope ― I stand back, wiping sweat from my forehead and taking a deep breath to get some more oxygen in my lungs.

“Sorry about that,” I say simply, turning and meeting Alexander’s still cautious gaze with a faint smirk. “Had a little more pent-up aggression than I thought I did.” He hums but doesn’t seem entirely convinced.

“You believe us now, dumbass?” Tina asks pointedly. “Or should we go out and shoot some cops to really get you off?”

Alexander eyes me for a long moment, and then looks at North, who’s struggling to breathe and leaning against the wall because her drugged arms won’t support her. His expression slowly changes as he glances up again.

“There is one thing you can do,” he says lightly.

He’s smirking. Not big, but it’s there.

Fuck. How long until the trackers kick in? The delayed-relay thing is supposed to activate after four hours and then send out a ping every ten minutes.

God, I hope it’s been four hours.

“And what’s that?” Tina asks, clearly getting fed up with the game.

“Her,” he says, pointing at the little girl I put under Conan’s protection. “Fuck her. In front of everyone. I don’t care who.”

Oh my fucking God, I cannot wait to make him eat his fucking teeth.

Thankfully, Tina and Conan don’t react defensively. Tina scowls, but refrains from saying anything, and Conan doesn’t even so much as twitch, even though the girl shudders against his hip, horrified resignation in her big dark eyes.

At that moment, I swear to whatever God exists that I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make sure she never has to suffer this disgusting humiliation again.

“No,” I say without thinking. Immediately, I want to punch myself as Alexander turns a faintly victorious look on me.

“No?” he echoes, and I scramble for a believable lie, keeping my panic firmly off my face and out of my eyes and voice.

“Bad luck to fuck the night before a race,” I shrug as casually as possible when I’m one wrong word from getting us all killed. He scowls, but ― oh thank God ― seems to accept the lie.

“Superstition will do you no good in this world,” he growls irritably.

“And yet, our superstitions and traditions have kept us alive thus far,” Conan points out calmly.

“No kidding,” Tina snorts, a smirk curling at her lips. “I’ve got the legs to prove it.”

“You want us to play with your toys,” I say, idly checking my knuckles, which are starting to sting, “you’ll have to wait until after the race. Well... Mostly. We’ll take the girl with us.”

“Excuse me?” Alexander splutters.

“Consider it a complimentary gift to ensure our interest,” Tina chimes in.

“And consolation for causing us so much trouble.” Conan casts a bland look at the guns, which are no longer pointed at us, but still at the ready.

Alexander stares narrowly at each of us for several long seconds and then, surprisingly, shrugs.

“I suppose that’s fair,” he says easily, and glances at one of his thugs. “Help Miss Chen gather the girl’s things.”

Shit. No; Tina don’t go with them.

This isn’t the plan.

I take a step forward, but Conan catches my eye and gives the barest shake of his head.

Shit. I’m panicking. Shit, shit, shit...

“Right this way, gentlemen,” Alexander says, his voice distant in my ears. “You can wait for Miss Chen over here.”

No.

I wouldn’t move if not for Conan taking my arm, guiding me.

“Not yet,” he whispers.

Not yet.

Almost.

Not yet.

Not yet...

The room is big, and bare. And there’s more thugs.

That’s all I notice before Conan shoves me to the side, ducking the other way and shielding the girl. I hit the wall just as a metal pipe swings through the air where my head was two seconds ago.

NOW.

I unleash all of my pent up fury and fear in an explosion of adrenaline. Two thugs lunge for me, and four others go for Conan, one of them snatching the girl away while the other three attack Conan himself but that’s the last I see of him; I duck under the first guy’s swing and elbow him hard in the sternum, making him stumble back, but a glancing blow to my shoulder knocks me off balance before I can follow through.

Arm up; block the next swing at my head. Punch his kidney.

 _Pain_ ; ram my elbow into his side. Kick the other one’s knee.

A shout; _Conan!_ I whip around; gut-punched.

Fuck.

Uppercut him, knock away the knee to my side.

Arms around my shoulders. Drop my weight and shove up; backward headbutt.

Shit; can’t see...

We trade blows for what feels like hours ― probably less than a minute.

And two-on-one is terrible odds.

Fire explodes through my skull. My vision goes dark and I collapse, fighting to maintain my fading consciousness.

“Shit, they were tough... Cut ‘em up?”

“Nah, don’t kill ‘em; boss wants to make ‘em suffer. Tie ‘em up and tell Harv to get the boat ready.”

Well shit...

Please let the girl be okay.


	6. The Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin drowns.

A burst of cold wakes me. It envelops me entirely, bubbles tickling across my skin as the cold triggers a shock through my entire body. It takes everything I have not to gasp and inhale water. The animal centre of my brain screams at me to _swim_ , to get to the surface, to _breathe_.

My hands are tied; I can’t feel my fingers.

Legs! My legs won’t move.

Shit.

There’s a way to survive this.

What is it?

Fuck; Conan called it... Fucker’s gonna be smug as fuck.

If I see him again.

I can’t die here.

I can’t.

I won’t.

I have to live.

I have to make sure that girl is safe

I have to apologise to North

Shit...

What do I do?

I have to do something; no one knows where I am

THE TRACKER!

Delayed-relay; won’t start for four hours

How long has it been?

Shit; lungs are burning

Air. I need air.

How long?

Did we hold out long enough?

How long did they wait to throw us overboard?

Fuck.

I need to _breathe_ , goddamnit!

So cold...

My throat hurts...

I can’t hold on...

Air...

Need...

air...

need

so

cold

so

...

“-in... Gavin! Can you hear me??”

Bright

_Pain_

“Come on, Gavin; don’t you dare die on me!”

Hurts...

My chest

My body convulses; water forces up my throat, through my nose.

_Burns!_

“Turn him on his side!”

“Gavin!”

“Oh thank god...”

I cough, choke; I need air, but there’s still water in my lungs.

Someone’s hand on my back, rubbing firmly.

“That’s it; you’re okay.”

“Co-” I break off in another coughing fit, and then gasp out, “ _Conan_...”

“I’m right here, Reed,” he answers, still rubbing my back. “I’m okay. We’re all okay.”

“Tina,” I rasp, wincing at the ache in my throat and peeling my eyes open.

“I’m here, you goddamn dumbass,” she replies, sniffling, crouched at my head. “I fucking hate you.”

“Me too,” I manage, curling my lips in a grin even though everything _hurts_.

“Is he alive?” Shapiro.

“He is,” Conan answers. “Thank you.”

“No problem. It’s thanks to you three that I finally got Cudmore.”

“Didn’t you get shot?” an angry female voice snarls, drawing another weak grin to my lips.

North is okay.

“That’s what the vest is for,” Shapiro says dryly.

“The girl,” I choke, tuning them out and reaching for Conan. “With m- With my scar...”

“Essie,” he answers, smiling lightly and gripping my hand. “She’s okay.”

“She’s been asking about you,” Tina adds, sounding a little more in control of herself.

“I’m alive,” I point out blandly, throat and lungs still burning. “How much water did I inhale?”

“Too much,” Conan scoffs.

“It didn’t work?” Connor speaks up timidly from somewhere out of sight.

“I’m sure it worked fine,” Conan assures. “Reed is just a moron and doesn’t use his head.”

“I panicked, okay? Like I’m gonna remember I’ve got a built-in rebreather when my only thought is _‘Don’t drown!’_ Like to see you do better... And you better not get all ‘I told you so’ smug because we caused enough trouble to make him drown us.”

“Doesn’t sound like you need a hospital after all,” Conan chuckles.

“Fuck no,” I grunt. “We’ve got a race tomorrow.” Tina barks a humourless laugh.

“There is no way you’re racing tomorrow,” she says.

“Says who?”

“Uh, for starters, me,” she scoffs. “And in case you forgot, I pretty much own your sorry ass. You’re going to the hospital for a check-up, and then you’re taking it easy for a while.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” I scowl at her.

“No, I’m not. Erik will run for you this time.”

I try to sit up so I can really give her a piece of my mind, but Conan’s hand on my shoulder keeps me down, and the firm warmth of his palm through my wet clothes calms me with surprising ease.

“Relax, Gavin,” he commands gently. “There’s always another race.”

I want to protest. I really do. But I can’t; I just can’t argue with him.


	7. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get finished up.

The sun is too bright here. We just touched down not an hour ago, and I’m already ready to go back. But the first racers are going to cross the finish line today, and in the last correspondence I had with the rest of my team, just before our plane took off in Detroit, they had just reached Carlin, Nevada; a little less than nine hours by normal travel standards from the finish line at Monterey Bay.

If this slow as fuck taxi gets there on time, Connor and I will have just under an hour to wait for Tina, Conan and Erik to cross the finish line. After all that shit with Cudmore, I’m looking forward to the coming excitement.

Turns out, our trackers kicked in even before we got pounced on, and Shapiro, who was on stand-by with a full SWAT team at the ready, led a massive raid mere minutes after Conan and I were taken away, just in time to prevent Tina from getting the same drug North and the other women got. In the havoc, Cudmore almost got away, and managed to get a shot off before Shapiro took him down ― she apparently busted him up nice, almost to death, and claimed that he was already like that when she found him, saying Conan and I must have done it to him; I was more than happy to claim credit for that. And since Erik was the only witness, and he corroborated her statement, I hear she’s not facing any discipline, to which I say ‘damn straight.’

As for Essie... There’s still a lot of chaos going on with the FBI taking apart two and a half different rings piece by piece, tracking down all the kidnapped women and getting them back to their families, at the very least to be buried with proper dignity. In all the mess, there are a lot of unclaimed girls, including Essie. Many of them are too traumatised to remember who their families are, but a few, like Essie, were simply taken too young.

I looked it up before I left; if no one has claimed the girls after six months, they’ll be entered into the system and turned over to an orphanage or a foster home.

Some people might think me crazy for wanting to adopt a kid that I’ve known for a day and a half, and normally I’d be the first to agree with them ― I’m hardly father material, after all ― but I spent over forty straight hours with that precious little girl and I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks, I’m filing for adoption the day the six months are up.

“It’s pretty.” Startled from thoughts of long dark curls, big dark eyes, and a sweetly tentative smile, I glance across at Connor, who’s sitting still for the first time in six hours. He drove me mad with his fidgeting at the airport, so I gave him a quarter to fiddle with and it really helped, but this is the first time the coin has stopped moving since I gave it to him.

“What is?”

“The ocean,” he hums, staring out the window of the cab.

“Mm.”

“Not like the lake,” he continues. “Bigger. Deeper. Better blue. Bluer than Conan’s eyes.”

“No argument here,” I grunt. Last time I ignored him, he grabbed my hand and wouldn’t let go until I talked with him, and having a grown man grasping at your hand is absolutely nothing like having a cute kid tugging at your fingers, so I learned my lesson quick.

“Do you like them?” he asks, gaze dropping to his hands, where the quarter is flipping over his knuckles again. “His eyes.”

“...Yeah.” No reason to lie.

“You like his lips too.”

I choke.

“Wh-??”

“I like his lips. I like his taste. I like his words. I know it’s wrong, but I don’t know why.”

How did we get on this subject??

“Uh, ‘cause...” I clear my throat and try to be casual about this. “‘Cause you’re related. You’ve got the same blood.”

“So?” He looks at me, perplexed and upset. “We are both men, so there is no chance of reproduction. Reproduction with relatives can cause ‘bad blood’; genetic diseases and immunodeficiencies, or perhaps extra chromosomes. Scientifically speaking, it’s very wrong. But there is no danger of that if we are both male.”

“I dunno, Connor; I’m not the one to ask.”

Jesus Christ, he’s like a kid sometimes; always asking why, so wide-eyed and innocent. But the difference between him and Essie is that I haven’t seen Essie naked and fucked, and I hope to God I never do.

“But you want him,” Connor points out. “You want Conan. You want his penis.”

“Wha- Connor!” I splutter, glancing quickly at the driver. Thank God for privacy barriers; I don’t think he heard that. Leaning over, I lower my voice anyway. “Connor, that is not something you say out loud in public.” He’d better not talk like that around Essie, I swear to Christ.

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” He stares at me, intent on getting his answers.

I cannot wait to give him back to Conan.

“...Yes, it’s true,” I sigh, giving up and sitting back.

“You want him. And you want Erik.”

We’re really going there? Jesus fucking Christ. “Yeah, I guess...”

“Do you want me?”

Well, shit. I suppose it’s a logical conclusion, but that doesn’t make it anymore of a comfortable topic. I shift uneasily in my seat, clearing my throat again because _fuck_ how am I supposed to answer that?

“You don’t.” There’s disappointment in his voice, and the coin goes still between his fingers. He shifts it slowly to grip it tightly between thumb and forefinger for a moment, and then holds it out to me. “I’m different...”

Goddamnit, what kinda mess am I in now?

“Connor... Jesus, I’m so bad at this... Look; it’s not...” I hesitantly cover his hand, pushing the coin back toward him. “It’s not that I don’t... I’m just... Talking about this sorta thing... I’m not... I don’t do that shit. I mean... Like... If you wanna fuck, I’m always down to fuck, you know? But... _wanting_ someone... That’s different.”

“How?”

“I dunno,” I shrug uselessly, looking anywhere but at him. “It’s... complicated. I dunno how to explain it.”

“Okay.”

Thank God...

The rest of the drive is quiet, but the coin keeps moving, so I take it as a good sign.

When the cab stops, Connor and I get out, and he starts walking away while I’m paying the driver, so I let the guy keep the change and hurry to catch up. He stops at the near end of the pier, watching people meandre back and forth. It’s pretty chilly out, so there’s not a lot of people, but it is clear and only a little breezy. It’s a lot like Michigan in mid-spring, actually; great weather for the hardy souls, but just brisk enough to keep most of the tourists away.

“The birds,” Connor hums absently, twisting the quarter in circles between his fingers.

“Uh, yeah,” I say, not sure what he means. He doesn’t explain, and I don’t ask. I let him do whatever he’s doing for about twenty minutes and then touch his arm. “Hey, they’ll be here soon; let’s go to the finish line.”

It takes us another twenty minutes to reach the ‘line,’ which is just a random spot chosen by whoever sets these races up. This particular spot is in front of an old boathouse that used to be at waterline and now is lucky to get a splash at high tide. There’s only one road to and from it, which stretches a ways down the beach before meeting up with the main street.

Someone did spraypaint a white line across the asphalt about a hundred yards from the boathouse, leaving enough room for deceleration; a couple years ago, second and third place were decided by a literal bumper, and there have been arguments in the past, so we have an actual line now for most races.

There’s already quite the crowd too, and at least half a dozen tents, suggesting several of these people got here last night. Someone has a barbeque going, and I’m more than tempted to get myself a burger.

“Want something, Connor?” I ask, already moving. He catches my arm, but he isn’t looking at me; his warm brown gaze is flicking quickly over the crowd.

“Birds,” he says, and then glances at me to see if I get it. I look around, but all I see are a couple of seagulls fighting over a piece of bread. Is that what he meant?

He jerks his chin at the people, and abruptly I do get it; he’s comparing the crowd to the seagulls: loud, obnoxious onlookers eager for anything they can get.

I burst into laughter. For a moment, he looks startled, and then a small smile quirks at his lips, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks.

“Wait here, dumbass,” I chuckle, patting his shoulder.

When I return with a burger for each of us ― and twenty bucks lighter because the guy making them recognised me and decided I could afford it ― Connor’s staring at the sky, and I quickly balance both plates on one arm to cover his eyes.

“The fuck are you doing? You tryna blind yourself??”

“It’s 3:20 PM,” he says, tipping his head down but not moving away from my hand. “They should arrive within the next five minutes.”

“You know, if you wanna know the time, just fucking ask,” I sigh, flicking his nose and handing him a plate. He takes it with a shy smile.

“Okay.”

About four minutes later, a shout comes from the roof of the boathouse, and I look up to see someone leaning over the edge and pointing down the road.

“First car! First car!”

A startled murmur picks up; no one expected the first sighting until later. I grin. Tina may not have a bunch of gold under her proverbial belt, but she’s never placed lower than fifth in all the time I’ve known her. And Conan has only ever placed first in all the races he’s finished. Can’t say much for Erik, but if he’s even a fraction as good as his brother, then between the three of them, there’s no way they won’t win.

Sure enough, our 300X glides across the finish line with a purr, not a single other car in sight as it pulls around to park a few feet from us, and Conan is the first one out, from the passenger side. Erik steps out of the driver’s side. Neither of them pay any attention to the cheering throng closing in. I don’t either, pushing past the crowd to get close as Tina crawls out Conan’s side from the back, looking more than a little annoyed.

“I expected you earlier,” I smirk at her. She scowls and flips me off.

“Maybe we would have been, if either of those two bastards would let me drive. They’re fucking machines, Gavin; I don’t think either of them has gotten more than five hours of sleep in the past 33 since we left Detroit! And I didn’t even get to drive _that_ much!”

I cock a brow at Conan, but he’s too busy hugging Connor. Or rather, Connor is hugging him, and he’s returning it with a tired smile. Erik leans on the roof of the car.

“If you don’t want me to drive, don’t give me the wheel,” he says bluntly. Tina flips him off too.

“Next time,” she growls at me while Erik accepts our trophy and cash prize, “I don’t care if you’re half-dead; you’re driving.”


	8. EPILOGUE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last minute fuck.

In the arrangements for our overnight stay before we head back to Detroit, Tina gets her own room on a different floor, and I somehow end up sharing a two-queen suite with the brothers. I wouldn’t have a problem with it, except all three of them are goddamn fucking _gorgeous_ freshly showered with nothing but towels hung low on their hips.

I’m gonna have a heart attack, I swear.

All the more so when I come out of my own shower to find Connor straddling Conan on one bed, both of them naked, and Erik still in nothing but a towel while lounging like a sex model on the other bed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I growl, hating that even a glimpse has my dick at full attention in moments. “I’m going to Tina’s room.”

“You’re not going to join us?” Conan calls out in amusement, a fucking male siren that stops me before I take two steps. Against my better judgement, I glance back at him, falling into the trap of his crystal gaze. “Connor tells me you’re rather interested in the lot of us.”

The brother in question is already needy and desperate, rocking his hips against Conan’s and stifling his whimpers in his brother’s neck. Conan threads his fingers through Connor’s hair without looking away from me, a faint, knowing smirk on his lips.

“And?” I grunt, trying to maintain whatever dignity I have left.

“And... you’re not going to Tina’s room.” He proclaims it like a fact, not an observation or a guess. I realise why when his gaze flicks past me and I turn to see Erik between me and the door to the living area of the suite, closing it quietly but firmly.

When the hell did he even move? And how the _fuck_ did I miss it??

“You’re not going anywhere tonight,” he adds, stepping toward me. I step back, swallowing hard past the rising _want_.

“Come here, Gavin,” Conan orders. I shake my head, not sure why I’m still rejecting this idea, but not ready to accept it either. “Bring him.”

Erik strikes in a blur, catching my arm and twisting it up behind me, and wraps his other arm around my shoulders to keep me firmly against his chest while he guides me to the bed.

“Fucking- Let go!” I protest, trying vainly to writhe free. He has no trouble maintaining his hold, and I remember belatedly that he’s got God knows how many years of elite military training.

Conan whispers something to Connor, who promptly changes position, sliding down between Conan’s legs with his back pressed to his brother’s chest. Conan pulls his hands up behind his own neck, and Connor obediently leaves them there while Conan’s hands glide back down to his chest.

“I think he needs a little attention,” Conan purrs, catching my gaze again.

I try a second time to resist, a futile effort at this point, when Erik pushes me onto the bed, keeping my wrist up between my shoulder blades. His ‘encouragement’ leaves me hovering over Connor’s pulsing, weeping cock and I stare at it for a moment before looking up at Conan, who’s watching me in calm interest.

“What do you want, Connor?” he asks, holding my gaze.

“Gavin...” Connor whines, wriggling eagerly. “Taste me. Suck me, please. I want to feel the heat of your tongue. I want to feel your teeth on my skin. Please, Gavin!”

Oh my fucking hell... How am I supposed to say no to that?

Damn you, Conan.

Pointedly ignoring his gaze, I turn my focus to the leaking appendage beneath me. With only a moment’s hesitation, I lean down and use my tongue to pull it into my mouth, sealing my lips around the crown and sucking lightly at the heated flesh nudging my tongue. Connor arches with a whimpering groan in response.

“Legs on his shoulders,” Conan commands softly, and then Connor’s calves are resting on my shoulders. Erik releases my hand so I can use it to brace myself under the extra weight, but lays his hands on my hips instead, forefingers tucking under the towel.

“When was the last time you were fucked, Gavin?” he asks, punctuating the question by grinding his erection through two layers of cloth against my ass.

“Nn...” I want him to do that again. “Long time. Years.” I collect saliva on my tongue and let it drip onto Connor’s tip, spreading it down with my lips as I slowly devour the whole of him.

“Ease up, Gavin,” Conan warns. “Don’t let him cum yet.”

“He’ll need a lot of preparation to take me,” Erik rumbles, sending a shudder of _want_ up my spine at the idea of something big splitting me open.

“Switch with me,” Conan hums. “I’ll loosen him up first. Sit forward, Connor.” There’s no hesitation in Connor’s obedience, only a slight noise of disappointment as he leans forward, reaching over me. Erik moves one hand from my hip, and by the shifting of weight, I’d guess he’s supporting Connor while Conan slides out from under him.

I let them switch places without paying much attention; my focus is on the dick in my mouth and the anticipation of getting fucked. Erik slips in behind Connor, pulling him back against his chest and tipping his head for a kiss, and Conan’s large hands glide down over my back to tug the towel off my hips, baring my ass.

“Where’s the bag?” he asks.

“Dresser,” Erik answers, breaking the kiss only for a moment before Connor attacks his lips with a needy whine. I want to whine myself when Conan’s warmth disappears; Erik’s fingers catch and grip my hair tightly when I start to move back to look around for him. “Stay.”

Another shudder, and then a gasp as Conan swats my ass.

“Behave,” he scolds, the sharp tone of his voice drawing a groan from me that vibrates through Connor’s cock and makes him groan in turn. Conan hums approval and presses his fingertips firmly along the length of my spine. “Be a good boy and I might let you fuck me later.”

Oh hell, I’ll do anything he asks now.

“Off,” Erik orders, tugging on my hair to pull me away from Connor’s cock. “Anything but; don’t touch it anymore until Conan is inside you.” Connor gives a soft wail of despair and bucks his hips, but I obey, avoiding his dick and dropping to my elbows to get to his testicles instead. I’m just sucking both into my mouth when Conan grips my ass, pulling the cheeks apart and pressing his thumb against my rim to test the give, which makes me freeze in eager hope.

“Softer than I expected,” Conan notes calmly. “First should be easy. Should I work him to second before I give him to you?”

“Do you _want_ to?” Erik returns, mouthing on Connor’s neck and pinching at his nipples.

“Of course I do,” Conan scoffs, dribbling cool wetness on my tailbone and using his fingers to work it inside me, already stretching me out. I barely stifle a groan. “I want to tear him apart with third, to make him scream my name when I split him in half. But... You called first dibs.”

I should maybe feel insulted that they’re discussing me like some damn sex toy, especially with me _right here_ , but really, I just want one of them to fuck me already.

“Bring him to the edge with first,” Erik decides after a short moment’s thought. “Let me destroy him in a single stroke, and then he’s all yours.”

“So kind,” Conan scoffs. Then he jolts suddenly, yanking me back with a fistful of hair, the pain going straight to my dick and tearing a strangled cry from my stretched throat. “Watch it, Erik; too much at once and he’ll cum too soon.”

“Sorry; I don’t have your touch.” It takes me a moment to realise they’re not talking about me this time; Connor whines desperately, one hand dropping toward his groin. Erik catches his wrist before he can touch himself, and he gives a half-sob of want, hips rocking in a vain effort to find friction.

“One nipple at a time,” Conan advises sternly. “Unless you’re inside him; then no outside stimulus.”

“Which would you rather, Connor?” Erik hums, nipping his earlobe.

“Inside,” Connor answers immediately, breathless. “Fuck me.”

“Gavin likes his hair pulled,” Erik notes casually while he guides Connor higher on his body. “The look on his face was... rapturous.”

“Is that so?” Conan muses, intrigued.

I should be worried, right? No, never mind; who am I kidding? If he’s gonna pull my hair again, I’ll just enjoy it that much more.

He does. Sort of... He uses his grip on my hair to push my head down toward the exposed bodies in front of me. 

“Suck Erik’s,” he commands. “Get him nice and wet.”

The moment I obey, he presses two fingers deep inside me, almost immediately jabbing a spot that lights me on fire, and I cry out around a mouthful of hot, throbbing flesh. Erik hisses audibly, and Conan chuckles.

“Cut it out, Conan,” Erik growls, making Connor shudder and whine pleadingly.

“What?” Conan returns innocently. “The less control he has over himself, the more he’ll salivate.”

“Just prep him properly and don’t make him bring me to orgasm before I’ve even gotten inside Connor.”

Conan must have conceded because his touches are gentler and avoid my prostate entirely while I do my best to get Erik as evenly wet as I can. When he gives a soft grunt, Conan tugs on my hair, pulling me away, and I have to resist the temptation to reach for my dick because _God_ I’m close.

“You want me inside you, Connor?” Erik murmurs against his cheek. He nods eagerly, panting, and Erik guides his hand down. “Put me there.”

“Do you want me inside _you_ , Gavin?” Conan whispers, leaning over me and flicking his tongue over the shell of my ear.

“Yes,” I moan shamelessly, shuddering.

At the same moment that Connor sinks himself to the hilt on Erik, Conan thrusts deep inside me, and we both release loud, pleasured groans of relief.

 _So full_...

“Fuck, Conan,” I breathe, trembling.

“Hold on,” he growls. “Not yet.”

‘Not yet’ ends up meaning watching Connor ride Erik for several torturously long minutes while Conan moves agonisingly slow in and out of me, until Connor slows down and grabs Erik’s hand.

“Speak,” Erik allows, not sounding at all affected.

“I want to cum,” Connor pants. “I want to kiss him.” Erik glances over me at Conan, who promptly yanks me up by the hair, so that most of my weight is on my knees.

“Go ahead,” Erik says, and Connor instantly darts forward, wrapping his hands around the back of my neck and yanking me into a fierce, hot kiss, like he’ll never get another chance. I can’t help but melt into it, responding eagerly and swallowing his cry when he explodes into a trembling mess. And still he kisses me, until we have to break for oxygen, when he drops his forehead to my shoulder, still shaking and panting heavily.

What do you know; Erik is definitely affected. His eyes are closed and his jaw is working, breathing carefully regulated in an effort to keep himself under control.

“You gonna make it inside me before you cum?” I smirk at him, earning a rough tug on my hair and a sharp bite to my shoulder, both of which make me hiss and bite back a curse.

“Give him to me,” Erik rumbles, patting Connor’s hip. He eases himself from Erik’s stiff erection with a soft groan and rolls tiredly onto his side, curling up where he can watch. Conan pulls out of me and drags me around by my hair, shoving at my hip to turn me completely, so I’m facing him.

Oh. Shit...

How did I not realise it wasn’t a real dick inside me?

Conan’s entire groin and one leg down to the knee is all cyborg-replacement. All of it, cock included. Now I get why he said his tracker thing would be by his pelvis.

“Scared?” There’s an odd note in his voice, enough to make me tear my gaze from the warm, skin-toned plastic and metal in front of me and look up at him; the closure in his features tells me he’s expecting me to judge him or hate him or something.

“The fuck would I be scared?” I scowl at him.

His erection clicks almost imperceptibly and parts shift, expanding it visibly. I stare in shock, partly at how huge it is now, and partly at the fact that it just _grew_. And not the way a real penis would.

Well, now I understand what he and Erik were talking about when they said first, second and third. But if the other one was first, and this one is second...

“How big does it get?” I ask quietly, awed.

It expands again, and a shudder runs through me at the thought of being penetrated with something almost the size of my forearm.

“Oh fuck...” I breathe, _wanting_. I glance up again, delighted to see him softening with relief and excitement. “Please?”

“Not yet,” Erik growls, startling me. He presses down on my shoulder, dragging up on my hip to keep my ass in the air while my shoulders hit the bed. “Focus on me, Gavin.”

When his crown breaches my ass, I have absolutely no problem obeying that command.

 _God_ , he feels amazing! I press my face into the sheets to muffle my cry, canting back against him.

“Easy, Erik,” Conan warns. “Don’t break him before I get him.”

“Don’t think you have to worry,” Erik replies raggedly, pausing the stroke and making me groan with _need_ ; I _need_ him to keep going, I _need_ him deeper inside me, I _need_ him to fill me up entirely.

“Already?” Conan chuckles, loosening his hold on my hair and stroking his fingers across my scalp.

“He’s tight,” Erik gasps, nails digging into my shoulder and hip. “So tight... And he’s already milking me; fuck...”

Oh? He’s at my mercy?

Hell yeah. I twist at the waist to give him the sluttiest look I can manage, reaching for him.

“Please,” I beg, upping the intensity of want in my voice. “Please, Erik...”

Bingo. He stiffens and jerks forward, cock pulsing inside me, heat filling me to overflowing. It leaks down my balls when he pulls out with an annoyed growl.

“He did that on purpose.”

“Did he?” Conan cocked a brow at me, and I smirked back at him, making him laugh. “You had your go at him; he’s mine now.”

“Keep him,” Erik huffed. “I’m not big on morons anyway.”

“Dickhead,” I scoff, shifting.

“Twink,” he retorts.

“I’m not the one that came in record time,” I point out, sliding off the bed to kneel in front of Conan, who watches me in proud approval and strokes his fingers through my hair.

“Trust me; you’ll be wishing you could when Conan’s done with you.”

“Maybe,” I hum, rubbing my hands up over Conan’s hips. “But I’ll enjoy every second of it.”

...

I did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brownie points for anyone who already knows which characters I borrowed ~~stole~~!
> 
> Agent Anne Shapiro and (Alexander) Cudmore belong to Estora [https://archiveofourown.org/users/estora/profile], from their story _i have loved you so long_ [https://archiveofourown.org/works/15536988].
> 
> Essie Reed belongs to Fantismal [https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantismal/profile], from her 'Perceptions' series [https://archiveofourown.org/series/1122795].
> 
> Be sure to swing by the Detroit: New ERA Discord server and say hi! https://discord.gg/vqUXfAT


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